


Roll For Charisma

by fearfrost1211



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Canon-Typical Violence, College AU, D&D AU, Fantasy, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, The game is it's own story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfrost1211/pseuds/fearfrost1211
Summary: “Okay,” Boyd says once everyone has filled their plates and gotten re-situated at the table. “Tell me what character each of you will be playing.”“Elf Wizard,” Stiles says immediately. “Salazar is his name.”“Human barbarian,” Derek says. “Daken.”“Sweet,” Stiles says. “Like Wolverine’s son.” The other man actually looks at him then, stunning multi colored eyes appraising before he nods and Stiles wonders if he has like a daily word limit or if he just really doesn’t like Stiles.Or, The D&D AU with wizards, shadow monsters, two idiots falling in love, and a dwarf named Stitches.





	Roll For Charisma

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second story for the 2017 Sterek Reverse Bang over on [Tumblr.](https://sterekreversebang.tumblr.com/) It was inspired by the amazing art and playlist created by [fallenangelswithmagpiewings.](http://fallenangelswithmagpiewings.tumblr.com/) Christina, you are so so talented! Thank you for sharing your love of sterek and D&D with me! 
> 
> A million THANK YOUs to the FABULOUS [troubleiwant](http://troubleiwant.tumblr.com/) for being such an amazing beta! 
> 
> I had such a blast with this fic and I'm hoping that you all will have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!
> 
> Enjoy =)
> 
> You can find the playlist for this story [here.](https://open.spotify.com/user/fawmagpiewings/playlist/4LhMHVrs9vFVyEOGK6dgYE) And the art [here.](http://fallenangelswithmagpiewings.tumblr.com/post/162355782426/srb2017-roll-for-charisma-fanmix-on-youtube)

“Stilinski you better have remembered the chips!” Erica calls as soon as Stiles sets foot inside her and Boyd’s apartment. 

“Have no fear, maiden fair!” Stiles exclaims, bounding into the kitchen where Boyd is hunched over the table drawing a series of tunnels on a large vinyl mat. Erica is at the counter, bowls of dip and other snacks lined up behind her. She’s got one hand held out for the chips and the other brandishing a terrifyingly large chef’s knife. “No need for the weapon, dear lady. I endeavor only to serve.” Stiles makes a show of bowing and presenting the blonde with a grocery sack stuffed with chip bags. 

“I bet I could find a use for your service,” Erica purrs, taking the chips and giving Stiles a wink. 

“Oh yeah?” Stiles asks, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “What would the lady ask of me?”

“You realize I’m still in the room, right?” Boyd asks, looking up from his task. 

Stiles and Erica immediately start giggling and she plants a smacking kiss on his cheek before sashaying over to her boyfriend and leaning over to place a more lingering kiss against the bald skin on top of his head. She looks back to Stiles. “If you want to put the extra sodas in the fridge that would be great. Isaac and Derek should be here in a few minutes with the pizza.” 

“Awesome. As soon as Scott and Allison get out of class they’ll be here too.” Stiles moves toward the fridge and starts pulling soda cans from the boxes stacked beside it. “Finally get to meet Isaac’s new roommate, huh?” 

“He’s a good guy,” Boyd says, already focused back on his task. “Quiet. Respectful of boundaries.” 

“Boundaries?” Stiles sees Erica smirking over the bowl she’s pouring chips into and places a solemn hand over his heart. “Vernon, I have the utmost respect for your boundaries.” 

“Uh huh.” The big man doesn’t even bother to look at him, just keeps drawing out the maps they’ll need for the game. Stiles doesn’t envy Boyd his role as DM, or Dungeon Master. He has enough trouble keeping track of his one character sheet, let alone creating the story, drawing maps, creating the villains, and all the other non-player characters of the game. It is seriously a lot to keep track of.  

Stiles hasn’t played D&D since he started college. He’d had a group he played with in high school, so when it came up after spending his first semester biology class making friends with Erica that her boyfriend wanted to run a game, Stiles was all in. They were a month back from winter break - into second semester now - and finally making it happen.

Stiles had met Boyd months ago when he’d come over to their apartment to study. After that, Erica had introduced him to Isaac, who coincidentally, was the same Isaac that Scott had befriended in his English class. He and Isaac are frenemies at best, but Scott really likes him. So, Stiles behaves himself. Most of the time.

“Did you help Scott and Allison get their characters made?” Erica asks, plopping herself down beside Boyd.

“Yep. Just no judgement on their character names, ok? They picked those out themselves.” 

“And you didn’t goad them into changing them to something you wanted instead?” Isaac asks, appearing in the kitchen doorway with pizza boxes in his hands. He smirks at Stiles while he’s setting the pizza on the stove.

“Where would you like these?” A voice asks from the doorway Isaac had just come through. Stiles swallows his snarky comeback to whip his head around to check out the infamous Derek, and nearly drops a can of coke on his foot.

Erica snickers as she gets up and goes to take the sacks of breadsticks out of Derek’s hands. “Derek, this is Stiles. Stiles, Derek.” 

Derek shoots a nod in his direction and after a beat Stiles remembers to shut his mouth and return it. Stiles thinks his reaction is perfectly reasonable considering Derek may be the single most attractive person he’s ever seen. It’s almost painful to look at him, honestly. Between the perfect angles of his face and muscles obviously hiding under the leather jacket he’s wearing, Stiles doesn’t know what to drool over first.

“Please make yourself at home.” Erica continues to Derek. “Everyone else does, whether we want them to or not.” 

“Hey!” Isaac and Stiles protest at the same time.

“Thank you.” Derek says and steps over to the table, slipping his jacket off and hanging it on the back of a chair next to Boyd.

“Hey man,” Boyd says and offers Derek his hand for some complicated handshake. 

Stiles goes back to loading the fridge with cans of bubbly goodness and tries to sneak little glances at where Boyd is now obviously helping Derek finish up creating his character. Those impressive eyebrows are furrowed as he writes in the information he’ll need for skill checks and Stiles really needs to stop staring. He stuffs the last can into place and turns, intending to go get his own character sheet, books, and dice from his backpack he’d dropped in the living room only to run directly into Isaac. 

“I’m watching you, Stilinski,” Isaac intones, blue eyes glinting. 

“Like I’ve been watching you for the last three months?” Stiles retorts, challenge in his eyes. Oh yes, Stiles is well aware of the way Isaac watches Scott and Allison. Of course, he’s also aware of the way Scott and Allison watch Isaac. If he was a betting man, he’d say that powder keg was due to explode any day now. He’s only brought it up to Scott once and his best friend was reduced to a stuttering mess and suddenly had some urgent appointment he _ just had to get to _ across campus. Stiles hasn’t voiced his suspicions again, but watching Isaac’s eyes widen in panic for a split second tells him all he needs to know. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Stiles drawls, stepping around the taller man. 

He’s sitting down at the table, gaming materials retrieved from his backpack, when there’s a knock at the front door. Erica trots off to answer it while Stiles and Isaac both situate themselves - setting out their dice, character sheets, and pencils. 

“Ever play before?” Stiles asks Derek when the other man glances up from scribbling his notes. 

“No,” Derek grunts, dropping his eyes back to his character sheet.

Stiles blinks. Rude, but at least he got an actual word this time.

Erica comes back, Scott and Allison trailing behind her. Allison is carrying a covered tray in one hand and Stiles immediately zeros in. “Are those your snickerdoodles? Tell me those are your snickerdoodles!”

“Those are my snickerdoodles,” Allison deadpans and Stiles narrows his eyes. 

“You’re not fucking with me? It’s not cool to play with my emotions this way Ally!” 

The brunette dimples at him and pulls back the pan’s cover to flash a sheet full of perfect looking cookies.

“Yes!” Stiles crows, hopping up to kiss her on the cheek. She swats his hand away when he tries to steal a cookie. 

“Nice try, Stiles,” Allison says before passing the cookies off to Erica for safe keeping. 

Stiles huffs turning to Scott and kissing his cheek too just for the hell of it. “Mwah! Hey buddy. How was class?” 

“It was good,” Scotts says, wiping his cheek before patting Stiles on the back and taking the empty seat on Isaac’s right. 

Stiles makes sure Isaac catches his smirk as he sits back down.

Allison seats herself on Isaac’s left and sticks her hand out to Derek on her other side. “Hi. I’m Allison.”

“Derek,” the man says, softening his face as he turns to shake her hand. 

“My bad,” Isaac says. “Allison and Scott, this is Derek. Derek, Allison and Scott.” 

Erica throws a stack of paper plates on the table and tells them all to serve themselves. She’s nobody’s scullery maid. 

 

*

 

“Okay,” Boyd says once everyone has filled their plates and gotten re-situated at the table. “Tell me what character each of you will be playing.” 

“Elf Wizard,” Stiles says immediately. “Salazar is his name.” 

Boyd nods and then looks to Scott. “Um...Dwarf Cleric…” 

“Name?” Boyd asks. 

“I told you it was a terrible idea,” Stiles is already laughing. 

“Stitches,” Scott finally says while Boyd, Erica and Isaac join Stiles in snickering. They continue around with everyone revealing their choice for their character’s race, class, and name. Isaac and Erica thought it’d be fun to play a brother and sister human fighter duo aptly named Eomer and Eowyn. Stiles nods his approval. Allison blushes furiously when she says her character is a half-elf ranger named Merida. Ally is the school’s up and coming archery star and for familiarity chose a character that favors a bow, so really it was either that or Katniss.

“Human barbarian,” Derek says. “Daken.” 

“Sweet,” Stiles says. “Like Wolverine’s son.” The other man actually looks at him then, stunning multi colored eyes appraising before he nods and Stiles wonders if he has like a daily word limit or if he just really doesn’t like Stiles.

Boyd says, “For those that haven’t played before-” he nods towards Scott, Allison, and Derek. “We’ll keep it pretty basic, but feel free to ask any questions you have. Everyone have everything they need?” 

At everyone’s assent, Boyd picks up a multi-colored d20, rolling it out onto the map still spread over the table. “Then let’s get started,” he says before launching into the setup for their adventure. “Your party has been hired by the King of Beaconia to investigate a situation in the mining town of Canaan…

 

_ Warm sunlight cuts through the sparse canopy covering the dirt packed road under their horses hooves. Salazar idly turns a page in the spellbook leaning against his saddle’s pommel and lets out a sigh. “What kind of beast did the King say it was, again?”  _

_ “He didn’t,” Eowyn answers, pushing her heavy plait of blonde hair over one shoulder and bringing her horse along side his. “That’s what we have to find out. Weren’t you listening?” _

_ Salazar scoffs at her tone. “Of course, I was listening...although my mind may have wandered as I determined which spell books I needed to pack.” _

_ “I think we should head straight to the mine,” Eowyn’s brother, Eomer pipes up. “Find the creature, kill it, and be celebrating with ale at the local inn by sundown.”  _

_ “The King said that Mayor Finstock thought the beast was from the Underdark. That sounds scary. Won’t it be hard to kill?” Stitches asks, slowing his horse to join the conversation.  _

_ “Everyone thinks everything is from the Underdark,” Eomer scoffs. “He’s probably just being paranoid. I bet it’s just a mountain troll or something, looking for a new den.” _

_ “Don’t be so hasty to assume Finstock doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s been helping oversee this mine for a long time. I’m sure they’re capable of taking care of run of the mill pests on their own,” Salazar says, without looking up from his spellbook.  _

_ “I agree,” Daken interjects, sending a jolt of surprise through Salazar. He turns widened eyes to the barbarian who offers him a nod of solidarity. _

_ “So, it’s settled?” Merida asks. “We’ll go into town and meet with the mayor before we approach the mine?” _

_ Everyone agrees, even Eomer, though he heaves a put-upon sigh as he does so.  _

_ When they reach Canaan the sun has hit its peak, causing sweat to pool beneath Salazar’s robes. Reining his horse to a stop in front of the local inn, he gathers up his staff and spellbook before swinging his leg over to dismount. He has one foot still in a stirrup and the other barely over the horse’s back when his hand still holding the pommel slips. He flails his arms, belongings scattering, to try to catch himself when two strong hands slip beneath his armpits, steadying him, and lower him safely down to the ground.  _

 

_ * _

 

“Now, hang on, just a gosh darn minute! Why am I the only one rolling to see if I can get off a horse?” Stiles says, eyes narrowing at Boyd. 

Boyd calmly starts listing reasons. “You’re wearing robes. You’re holding a staff and a spell book. You’re sweating so your hand is going to be slippery and your Dexterity score is..?”

Down the table, Isaac snorts.

A harsh breath pushes out of Stiles’s nose before he grits out, “9.” 

“And that’s why you’re rolling to see if you can get off a horse. Now, may we continue? I believe Derek here was just about to keep you from falling on your ass.”

 

* 

_ Heart hammering, Salazar turns to thank his rescuer and finds himself staring directly into Daken’s intense green eyes. “Um...thank you. That would have been a nasty spill.”  _

_ “You’re welcome,” The barbarian grunts, then bends to retrieve the staff and book the wizard had dropped. He hands them over without another word and then gathers the reins of his and Salazar’s horses to lead to the stable entrance.  _

_ “Let’s see if they have rooms available before we go find the mayor,” Stitches says from Salazar’s elbow.  _

_ The elf looks down at his dwarven friend, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the broad expanse of Daken’s shoulders. “Yes. I’d rather sleep in a bed tonight than on a bedroll if we can manage it.”  _

_ “And I’m starving,” Eomer groans as he walks by them and through the inn’s swinging door. _

_ They needn’t have worried about finding the mayor. The inn’s main room is filled to the brim with town’s people, some eating and drinking, while others seem to be expressing protestations of the recent delay in their work. _

_ “We’ve families to feed!” one man yells.  _

_ “What are you doing to open the mine again?” another calls.  _

_ “Now, everyone just calm down!” a well-dressed man at the front of the crowd demands. “The King himself is sending a special envoy to kill the beast and get the mine working again.” The man runs both his hands through the dark hair already sticking out in every direction on top of his head and looks up as their group comes to a stop just inside the door.  _

_ Blinking to adjust to the change in light, Salazar nearly steps back when that same man points directly at him. “You! Who are you?” _

_ “Um...We’re looking for Mayor Finstock? We’ve been sent by the king.” _

_ “See!” the wild haired man shouts, triumphant. “Here they are,” he turns back to them, eyes tracking each of their forms and slowly losing his jubilance, “the King’s special heroes.” He lowers his arms and walks to them while the crowd casts speculative glances their way. Stopping directly in front of Salazar, the man leans in and the elf feels one of his comrades step closer to his side. “Have you guys even fought a monster before? Saved a town?”  _

_ “Some of us have-” Salazar starts, only to be cut off. _

_ “I told him I needed experienced heroes!” The man’s voice turns into a furious whisper. “Not amateur hour! We have a legitimate crisis on our hands here!” _

_ “Look, pal,” Eowyn moves up to Salazar’s other side and the elf throws a hand out to cut her off.  _

_ “Are you the mayor?” Salazar asks. _

_ “Yes, gods help me. I’m Mayor Finstock.” _

_ “Well, Mayor Finstock, some of us are yet to be tested in battle, it’s true, but some of us,” Salazar flourishes out his hand a ball of fire igniting in his palm, “have seen our share. We’ll handle your monster problem.” _

_ Finstock considers him a moment, cautiously eyeing the the flames still dancing over Salazar’s skin. “Fine. Let’s talk.” _

_ The mayor leads them to a table off to the side and calls on the barmaid, Malia, to bring wine and stew for his guests. Their arrival seems to have calmed some of the patrons, while others gaze at them with suspicion. Salazar notices several men lined up along the bar throwing dark glances over their shoulders.  _

_ “Three days ago, the mine’s foreman came to me saying he thought someone was somehow concealing a tunnel within the mine. He found footprints that seemed to lead directly into the wall. The next morning, I went to the mine with him to see for myself. He lights a lantern, leads me back towards the supposedly hidden tunnel, and then something comes out of the shadows and attacks him, latches onto his shoulder. He managed to bash it with the lantern and we ran like hell. I was halfway back to town before I realized the damn thing wasn’t even following us.”  _

_ Malia begins setting pitchers and bowls on the table. Salazar notices her eyes trailing over each member of his party before repeatedly tracking back to him, giving him the urge to pull his hood up. He wonders if she’s never seen an elf, or is among those with prejudice against his race. He smiles to himself when he sees Stitches as well as Daken and Eowyn glaring at the woman. Eomer is, of course, too invested in his wine goblet to take note.  _

_ “So, if it’s just something hiding in the mine, why wouldn’t it chase you?” Stitches asks, sipping from his goblet and turning his eyes back to the mayor. _

_ “Oh, it’s not something hiding. I’m telling you, we dug too deep.” Finstock leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We’ve let something out of the Underdark.” _

_ Eomer snorts, “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” _

_ At Finstock’s glare, the warrior seems to lose some of his incredulity. “Believe what you will, but I’ve seen it. It’s some form of shadow monster.”   _

_ “What happened to the foreman?” Salazar asks, trying to keep them on track. _

_ “He’s with the healers. Alive, but fever has set in. I doubt he’ll be any use until it breaks.”  _

_ “We’ll need to see the mine,” Merida says, and Finstock turns to her. _

_ “Of course,” he says. “Finish your lunch then come to the western edge of town. I’ll have our sheriff, Parrish, meet you there and escort you to the mine.” He leaves them to themselves and they tuck into the meal before them.  _

_ Once they’ve finished eating, and Eomer has licked his bowl clean, Stitches secures them two rooms for the duration of their stay from the inn’s owner, a nice woman named Natalie. She tells them the market is open in the mornings in case they would like to purchase any goods, and to call on her for any other needs they might have.  _

_ Salazar walks ahead of the others to the stables to retrieve the rest of their saddlebags when someone steps out of a shadowed stall.  _

_ “Filthy knife-eared magic user, we don’t want your kind around here!” The man is large, rough knuckled and bleary eyed. Salazar steps back - his magic is better from a distance - when rough hands grip each of his arms, sending his staff clattering to the ground. The two men behind him seem just as steeped in liquor as the giant in front of him, but their grip is like iron, holding him fast.  _

_ He opens his mouth, spell words forming on his tongue when the one in front surges forward, hard fist connecting to Salazar’s face. The force snaps his head back, pain exploding across his cheek. The large man rears back again and Salazar kicks out, connecting with the man’s knee, a sickening crunch fills the air and the man howls with pain and rage as he falls back against a stable door.  _

_ The man on his right knees Salazar in the stomach, bending the elf in half, and a guttural roar sounds from the barn’s door. In the next instant, the head of a giant warhammer descends on the man that just assaulted him, breaking the man’s hold on his arm and leaving his attacker writhing on the floor. Hand now free, Salazar reaches for the dagger on his belt, ready to attack the last man still gripping his arm. The crack of a whip splits the air and the last ruffian standing hits the dirt floor, face first, whip’s end looped around his ankle. When he begins to scramble, Eowyn brings the tip of the sword in her other hand to the back of his neck. “Try to move. See what happens.” _

_ “Are you alright?” Daken asks, stowing his warhammer and stepping over their downed opponents, to grip Salazar’s shoulders. His green eyes search the elf’s body, before calloused fingers gently clasp his chin to inspect the damage of his cheek. _

_ “I-I’m ok,” Salazar stutters, overwhelmed by the intensity of the gaze on him. The giant of a man still moaning on the ground and holding his knee, reaches for his belt and Daken pulls Salazar behind him and grabs the man by the skull before slamming his head into the wall.  _

_ “Easy, big guy,” Salazar says, lightly laying his hand on the barbarian’s arm. “We might need to ask them some questions.” _

_ Running footsteps sound outside the barn before Stitches, Eomer, and Merida all race inside, weapons drawn.  _

_ “Salazar!” Stitches shouts, running to his friend and slinging his war axe and shield back unto his back. “What happened? Are you injured?” The cleric is already reaching into his belt pouches for the healing herbs and poultices he keeps there.  _

_ “Nothing major. Daken and Eowyn came to my rescue.” Salazar assures him, but Stitches pulls him over to sit on a hay bale so he can apply some awful smelling concoction to the throbbing bruise blossoming on his face. _

_ “What did they want?” Eomer asks, casting a dark look at the man still under his sister’s sword.  _

_ “We won’t have no filthy knife ears polluting up our town! You miscreants need to mind your own busines-” The ruffian cuts off with a grunt when Eowyn’s sword bites into his flesh.  _

_ “Prejudice against elves?” Merida asks, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous.” _

_ “Tell me about it.” Salazar says. He winces when Stitches touches his ribs near where the one man had assaulted his torso. “Did anyone else see that barmaid eyeing me up when we were talking to Finstock?” _

_ “I did.” Daken has come to stand beside the hay bale Salazar is sitting on, watching intently as their dwarven cleric tends to his wounds.  _

_ “I think we need to go find that sheriff,” Eowyn says. She and Eomer drag their captive up from the ground and push him towards the barn’s exit.  _

 

_ * _

“That’s the end of part one. What did you guys think?” Boyd asks against a table of protests. 

“We can’t be done already!”

“Man, it was just getting good.”

Boyd chuckles, “There’s two more parts to this game. I told you guys this would be more than a one-shot campaign.” 

“It was awesome sweetie,” Erica says, leaning over to steal a kiss. 

Stiles would agree, but he’s too busy staring across the table at Derek. The dark haired man hasn’t even met his eyes since the game ended. Whatever switch he flipped to let him engage with Stiles so easily while in character has apparently returned to its  _ off _ position. 

“You know,” Stiles says, tearing his gaze away from Derek to look at Allison. “I was injured. I think this entitles me to at  _ least _ three more cookies.”

“You’ve already had six!” Allison laughs. 

“Injured! It’s special circumstances,” Stiles persists reaching for the pan and he swears he sees the corner of Derek’s mouth curl up out of the corner of his eye.

 

*

 

Monday finds Stiles bleary eyed, idly scratching his stomach while he waits in line at one of the campus coffee shops. It’s not his normal one, but he has a special meeting with his advisor this morning to discuss his schedule for next year. Meaning, he’s on the opposite side of campus from his usual Monday morning location - his bed. No way would Stiles willingly take a class this early.

The line moves forward, people chattering and the heavenly aroma of freshly ground coffee permeating the air. Stiles takes a big lungful - hoping for a contact buzz, maybe - and pulls his shoulders back as he stretches his arms out behind him. His hand touches something hard and warm and denim covered causing him to give a startled little yelp and spin, apology already on his lips, “Oh my god, I’m so sor-”

Wide green eyes meet his. It’s Derek. He’s pretty sure he just felt up Derek’s leg.  _ Oh god _ , he hopes it was just his leg. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m half dead over here and didn’t even think-”

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is exasperated, but with a sharp enough edge that it cuts through to Stiles’s sleep deprived brain, gets him to shut his mouth with a snap. “It’s fine.”

Stiles blinks, searches Derek’s face. It looks like he didn’t bother with shaving this morning, and Stiles has to fight the urge to run his fingers along that stubbled jaw, to find out if it would be scratchy or soft against his skin. Derek’s eyes widen and Stiles realizes he’s been staring, mostly in the vicinity of the other man’s mouth. “Um-” Stiles clears his throat. “I should buy your coffee.” Derek looks about to protest and Stiles puts a hand up, “No, really. It’s the least I can do for assaulting you first thing in the morning.” 

Derek finally nods and they both shuffle forward as the line moves along. 

“So, how was the rest of your weekend?” Stiles asks, trying to combat the awkward silence. 

Derek’s face is set in what Stiles is beginning to think of as his default expression: the frowny scowl. 

“Good.”

Stiles stops himself from heaving a sigh, but it’s a close thing. “That’s...good.” Stiles knows it was just a game, but could Derek not put in like half the effort that his character, Daken, had into his interactions? I mean, it’s not like they’re strangers at this point. They’re not friends exactly, but they did spend their Friday night together having what in Stiles’s opinion was an enjoyable game night. 

They reach the counter and Derek lets Stiles buy his coffee. When the barista calls their names Derek steps over from where they’ve been waiting, silently to Stiles’s extreme discomfort, and accepts both cups. 

“Here,” Derek says, holding one out to Stiles. “And thanks.” 

Stiles reaches for the cup and it almost looks likes Derek moves it down just a fraction so that Stiles’s fingers will brush over his as he takes it. “You’re welcome,” he says absently, fingers tingling. 

Derek turns for the door and Stiles follows. Outside, the crisp February air has Stiles huddling into his jacket, clutching his coffee for warmth. 

“Where are you headed?” Derek asks, sipping his own drink.

“English Department. I have a meeting with my advisor.” 

“Me too. My first class is there.” Derek says, and takes a little step forward. 

Stiles thinks he’ll just walk off, leaving him to walk alone, even though their destination is the same, but Derek pauses, turns his face to Stiles with one raised eyebrow and Stiles hides his grin against the lip of his cup before he falls into step beside him. 

 

*

 

_ Salazar makes his way through the market, surprisingly diverse considering the town’s size. He can feel Daken’s eyes on him where the barbarian is lingering just a few steps behind. He has refused to leave Salazar alone since the attack yesterday, despite Sheriff Parrish having arrested all three men for assault.  _

_ The sheriff had also taken them to the mine, only for Salazar to discover that it had been warded with some fairly potent magic and beyond that there was definitely something beastly lurking in the darkness. He could sense its presence in the mine like the smell of rotten fruit, cloying and sticking at the back of his throat.     _

_ That’s what led him to the market this morning. If he is going to banish the beast he will need spell ingredients, and strong ones. One booth in particular keeps drawing his gaze as they make their way down the street. Baskets and baskets of crystals cover the wooden table at its front and dried flowers and herbs of every variety are hanging suspended from the frame holding up its canvas roof.  _

_ “She keeps staring at you,” Daken says low in his ear and Salazar jumps.  _

_ “Who?”  _

_ “The woman running that booth.” Daken nods in the direction of the booth he’d just been looking at.  _

_ “To be fair, I’ve been eyeing her booth.” He turns his head to meet his companion’s eyes. Daken’s face is set in a deep scowl, eyes tracking the woman’s movements over Salazar’s shoulder. “There are several of those crystals that could be very useful.” _

_ “What do they do? The crystals?” _

_ “It varies...each kind has it’s own specific properties. Green has a lot of practical purposes, like healing or as a spell ingredient. Blue is mostly used as a focus or implement to channel power. Purple is more valuable. It’s like a vessel, can carry completed spells or harnessed energy just waiting to be unleashed.” _

_ The barbarian considers this while watching the woman in the booth. He growls, “She looks wrong. I don’t like the way she’s watching you.” _

_ “You know, this whole guarding my body thing is sweet, big guy, but despite recent events, I can actually take care of myself.”  _

_ Daken huffs a breath through his nose and looks back to Salazar, face only inches away. “I’m not leaving you.”  _

_ “I wasn’t asking you to,” Salazar says, swaying closer without really meaning to. “Just maybe, ease up on the scowling. People love to talk, and it’s amazing what they’ll tell someone they think they’ll never see again.” _

_ Daken nods, grimacing even as the furrow of his brow smoothes out to something a little less hostile.  _

_ Salazar can’t help but grin at his effort. “Close enough. Now let’s go say hi.” _

_ “Hello,” the dark haired woman says when they approach. “I’m Julia. Can I help you with anything?” _

_ “Good morning,” Salazar replies. “I just wanted to look through your crystals. You have quite the selection.”  _

_ “Thank you. It’s not often we have an actual wizard in town to appreciate them. Most of them were mined right here in Canaan.” _

_ Salazar jerks his head up before he thinks to hide his reaction. _

_ Julia just laughs, bright and tinkling. “I can tell by your reaction you didn’t realize it’s a crystal mine. It’s not something we advertise, but it supplies most of the crystals to the King’s own wizard tower. If it were common knowledge, I imagine we’d have far more trouble than just some stray beast hiding in our mine.” _

_ “I imagine you’re right.” Salazar nods, contemplative. He feels Daken step closer from where he’s been observing off to the side at the same time fingers brush the back of his hand where it’s hovering over a basket of purple crystals.  _

_ “Do you like the look of these?” Julia asks, voice dropped low and fingertips still lingering on Salazar’s knuckles.   _

_ “Um,” Salazar clears his throat, gently pulling his hand back. Daken is a hard line of heat pressed to his side now, scowl firmly back in place. _

_ Julia arches one dark eyebrow, glancing between them. “Or perhaps there’s something else that you prefer.”  _

_ “N-no, um, I’ll take two of these purple and one of the blue. Plus, a bundle of sage.”  _

_ “Of course,” Julia nods, smirking, and turns around to gather Salazar’s order.  _

_ “What are you doing?” Salazar hisses to Daken the moment her back is turned. _

_ Daken looks at him, frown deepening before stepping away again, head pointedly turned in the other direction.  _

_ Salazar puffs out an exasperated breath and digs some silver out of his coin purse when Julia hands him his bag of goods.  _

_ “I’m sorry if I offended your lover,” she says quietly, eyes flitting to the barbarian’s back.  _

_ “Oh, he’s no-” Salazar sputters, but then just closes his mouth at the woman’s knowing smirk and gathers himself. “Thank you.” _

_ “My pleasure. I’m here nearly everyday if there’s anything else you need.”  _

_ Salazar doesn’t miss the way her eyes glint and he swallows, giving a little wave as he steps back, ears blushing furiously.  _

_ The moment they’re more than a couple steps away Daken growls, “Let’s head back to the inn and regroup.” The barbarian doesn’t wait for Salazar’s acquiescence and soon the wizard is standing alone watching those broad shoulders move through the crowd ahead of him. With a sigh, he moves to follow, but stops when he sees Malia, the barmaid who’d eyed him so openly yesterday, deep in a whispered conversation with a man in a dark hood huddled  near a booth selling baked goods. Salazar tries to slink closer when the man suddenly goes rigid and turns his head sharply in the elf’s direction. Malia goes stiff at her companion’s reaction and Salazar quickly ducks his head and strides toward the inn.  _

_ Eomer and Eowyn are settled at a table in the inn’s dining room, breakfast spread in front of them. They’d spent the night taking the first shift guarding the mine in an attempt to catch whatever magic-user had warded it. Salazar believes wards of that magnitude will need maintenance and it’s only a matter of time before whoever set them returns. Stitches and Merida had relieved them at first light. Daken sits down beside Eomer and the blonde man pushes a cup and the coffee over to him. He still won’t look at Salazar. _

_ “So, I just saw our little barmaid friend having a secretive conversation with some guy who didn’t want his face known.” Salazar says, accepting the cup Eowyn passes him. _

_ “That’s more action than we saw last night,” Eomer says, tearing of hunk of bread with his teeth. “Did you hear what they were saying?” _

_ “No,” Salazar sighs. “They both froze nearly as soon as I spotted them. I didn’t even get a good look at his face.”  _

_ “Hmmm. Secret conversations. Secret tunnels. I’m sensing a pattern in this town,” Eowyn says, thoughtful.  _

_ “Definitely something fishy in the water,” Salazar agrees.  _

_ “Yeah,” Eomer groans, standing up. “Just wake me when it’s time to kick something’s ass, would you?” He turns with a wave and heads up the stairs.  _

_ “What do you two have planned for today?” Eowyn asks, eyebrow raised, looking between Salazar and where Daken is pointedly inspecting the table.  _

_ Salazar watches Daken for a moment as the barbarian just shrugs then he turns back to Eowyn. “I’m going to try to find somewhere quiet to work on a spell to banish the beast then we’re supposed to relieve Stitches and Merida at sundown.”   _

_ “Good,” Eowyn says, standing. “I think I’ll take my leave to sleep as well.” _

_ Once she’s disappeared up the inn’s stairs, Salazar turns his eyes back to the barbarian. “Look, I’m sorry she said that, ok? Would you please stop ignoring me?” _

_ Daken finally meets his gaze, green eyes blazing. “I don’t care about what she said, Salazar.” _

_ “Then, wha-”  _

_ “Can we just forget it? Where do you want to work on your spell?”  _

_ Frustration courses through the elf’s veins. “Fine. Just somewhere quiet.” _

_ Daken may be the most infuriating man Salazar knows, but he has excellent taste in clearings. He’d found them a spot not a stone’s throw from town, ensconced in such a ring of trees and bushes that it felt like they were the only two people in the world.  _

_ Salazar is sitting with his back pressed against a tree, spell book on his knees and doing his absolute best to concentrate. Easier said than done, since his eyes can’t seem to stop straying to his companion.  _

_ Daken is shirtless, tunic discarded under the afternoon sun, and the waistline of his dark breeches clinging to his hips have dampened with perspiration produced by his training. The great warhammer he favors would surely overshadow most men, but in Daken’s hands, grip sure as muscle ripples beneath tanned skin, it makes him look like a great warrior god of old.  _

_ Even his face, Salazar muses, is worthy of odes. Not even the scar that bisects his right eyebrow and travels a dark line down below his eye, can detract from the beauty of his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. He’s got his dark hair pulled back with a simple leather strap and Salazar considers pulling one out of his bag for his own brown hair.  _

_ He’s starting to feel overheated here in the shade of his tree, and while the slick skinned barbarian gracefully practicing maneuvers can account for a certain heat gathering, this heat feels unnatural. The back of his hand tingles then pinches and he looks down afraid some insect has decided to feast on him.  _

_ “Finally looked your fill?” Daken asks, the first words he’s spoken since they arrived at the clearing.  _

_ Salazar opens his mouth to answer only to find it dry and attempts to clear his throat. “I-is water?” He manages to croak out feeling like his throat is closing and Daken’s face has morphed from sarcastic to worried in a blink. _

_ “Salazar?” Grabbing the water skin, Daken runs towards him, uncorking it with his teeth and dropping to his knees. The barbarian holds the skin up to Salazar’s mouth, pouring a small amount inside. The elf sputters, half choking and Daken pulls him forward from the tree until his forehead leans against one broad shoulder.  _

_ “My h-hand,” he tries to say and scrambles to pull back the sleeve of his robe. The pinch he’d felt only moments ago has morphed into a great pulsing burn emanating from a glowing black sore that’s appeared on the back of his hand. He sucks in a great heaving breath and pushes back from Daken’s chest, “My bag...the crystals.” _

_ Daken doesn’t question him, grabbing the bag and spilling all it’s contents onto the ground in front of him. The pain is building now, putrid black lines already reaching his elbow. If they get to his heart… _

_ “The green one,” he pants resisting the urge to claw at his own flesh. “Smash it.” Again, the barbarian immediately complies taking the crystal to a nearby stump and bringing his warhammer down on it with a thundering crack - once, twice and a third time. He sweeps all the shards and dust into his palm sliding back to his knees beside Salazar. The wizard uses his unaffected hand to grasp his oilskin and managing to pull the stopper, dumps it over the pulverized crystal. Once the oil is coating all the shards, Salazar cups his good hand over Daken’s, covering the crystal completely and mumbles the spell to transform it into paste. “Rub it on, especially the wound.” _

_ Daken takes the elf’s darkening hand and slathers him from knuckles to shoulder, shoving his robe out of the way and pressing the paste firmly into the growing black sore. Salazar cries out at the sting, hot tears leaking from the corner of his eye. Daken keeps spreading the mixture, making sure every dark line is covered completely, and the burn begins to fade.  _

_ Salazar shudders out a breath and realizes that he is half sprawled on the barbarian and can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his forehead against Daken’s throat and closes his eyes.  _

_ “Salazar?”  _

_ “I’m ok…” he pants, before two strong arms slide beneath him and lift. Daken pulls him to his chest and sits back against the tree, cradling Salazar close.  _

_ After a few moments of catching their breath, Daken asks, “What the hell was that?” _

_ “It’s called ‘the creeping.’ It’s a spell,” the elf pants.“Dark magic. I’ve never seen it used.” _

_ Daken’s arms tighten around him, one hand still absently massaging his abused arm. “How is it cast?” _

_ “Through touch,” Salazar says, sitting up enough to meet Daken’s eyes. “Only one person touched me on the back of my hand today.” _

_ There’s a snarl on Daken’s lips before he’s even finished speaking. “Let’s get the others and find that witch.” _

_ It takes Salazar two tries and the security of Daken’s arm around his waist to get his wobbly legs to hold his weight, but they make it to the inn. Natalie, the owner, drops the cloth she had been using to wipe tables as soon as she spots them hobbling through the door.  _

_ “What happened?” She asks, rushing forward and helping Daken sit Salazar down on the closest bench.  _

_ “He was attacked. Can you rouse our companions? The siblings should be in our rooms.” Daken asks, never taking his eyes from the elf. _

_ Natalie runs to do as asked and Salazar squeezes Daken’s wrist. “I’m ok. Really.”  _

_ Two sets of feet thunder down the stairs then Eomer and Eowyn are bracketing Daken, wide eyes taking in the rumpled wizard.  _

_ “What the hell happened?” Eowyn demands, sliding unto the bench beside Salazar and taking his injured arm in her hands. _

_ “Who did this?” Eomer’s voice is hard, hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword.  _

_ “A witch,” Salazar answers, attempting to calm them both. “We think. She had a booth in the market this morning. Set a creeping spell on the back of my hand. It was stupid of me to ever let her touch me.” He holds Daken’s gaze as he says this, hoping that the barbarian will find the apology in his eyes for not heeding his warning.  _

_ “We’ll find the sheriff and bring him here. You should rest,” Eowyn suggests, drawing immediate agreement from Eomer and Daken.  _

_ “I’m fine, guys!” Salazar says, pushing up from the table. As soon as his hand leaves the bench, he tumbles forward and Daken’s arms close around his waist, holding him upright. _

 

_ “Sure you are. As long as your boyfriend is there to catch you,” Eowyn teases, rising to stand beside them.   _

_ Salazar suddenly doesn’t even have the energy to argue. Daken is so warm and solid against him that the elf goes boneless and lays his head down on the barbarian’s shoulder. He’s aware that the others are still talking, probably making plans to inform Stitches and Merida about what happened, and what they’re going to do once they find the witch, but Salazar can’t focus on it.  _

_ He lets his eyes wander over the inn, the vibrations from Daken’s voice soothing, and watches as Malia the barmaid comes out of a room next to the kitchen followed directly by the man in the black hood. Salazar frowns before his brain catches up and he shouts, “Stop!”  _

_ Daken jerks his head in the direction Salazar is squirming. At Salazar’s shout, the man begins to run, back door cracking against the wall when he slams into it, but his speed is no match for Eomer’s long legs. _

_ Salazar sees Eomer and Eowyn manhandling the hooded man back into the inn, hears Malia’s shouting, but it’s all going distant, hazy.  _

_ “Salazar?”  _

_ The elf would have sworn that he was still draped over the barbarian’s chest, but his voice sounds so far away. He has time to wonder if that witch had managed to do something else to him when the world goes dark.    _

 

_ * _

 

_ “Come on, Stiles...please _ ,” Scott’s whine pierces through the phone, cracking Stiles’s resolve. 

“Ugh,” he groans. “Fine.” 

“ _ You’re the best! _ ” Scott says, jubilant. “ _ Seriously, man. I owe you one. _ ” 

“You’re gonna owe me a hell of a lot more than that.” Stiles grumbles, ending the call. After their last game night, Derek had left almost immediately after Boyd had called a halt. Stiles hasn’t seen him since that night two weeks ago, at least not in person. Flashes of dark hair and green eyes dance just on the edge of his most delicious dreams and he finds himself turning his head on campus at every glimpse of a leather jacket. 

He has picked apart and analyzed every single thing Derek said as Daken in the last campaign. How concerned he’d been for Salazar’s safety. How he’d responded when the elf’s life had been in jeopardy. He knows it’s wrong, but sometimes he finds himself thinking more of Daken than he does of Derek. 

With a sigh, he gets up from his desk and tidies up he and Scott’s dorm room. That powder keg his best friend has been dancing around between him, Allison and Isaac has finally reached it’s boiling point. The three of them are having dinner and then going back to Isaac and Derek’s room to “talk.” Whether or not talking is the only thing they accomplish, they’ve decided to sexile Derek and Scott has so graciously offered his half of this room in exchange.

Stiles takes a deep breath. It’s not like he had big plans, mostly junk food, maybe some studying, definitely some porn-

A knock on the door stops that thought and Stiles wipes his hands on his sweats and licking his lips, he opens the door.  

“Hey, Derek,” he says, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the man’s face. He’s in his typical leather jacket, jeans, and dark henley, but he also has a duffle bag and laptop case slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Derek shifts on his feet. “Can I come in?”

“Oh shit, sorry,” Stiles steps back opening the door wider. “Mi dorm room es su dorm room.” 

“Thanks,” Derek murmurs, stepping past Stiles and taking a look around. 

“That’s Scott’s bed and desk over there which I’m assuming he gave you free reign over while he is uh...otherwise occupied.” 

Derek actually snorts a little laugh at that and sits his bags down on Scott’s bed. 

Silence pulls taut between them. Stiles can feel it like a weighted string, and he wishes for a minute that he was better at this. Talking, sure, he’s got that in the bag, but being smooth? Actually knowing what to say? Not so much. Things are easier between them in the game he realizes because then he can simply pick up a die, say he wants to roll for charisma to win someone over with what he says or roll against his bluff skill when he needs them to think he’s something that he’s not. 

Green eyes turn to look at him, one dark eyebrow raised. Oh right, Stiles supposes he’s been standing here staring this entire time. “Um...have you had dinner?”

Derek looks like that is somehow the last thing he expected Stiles to say...but not like he’s unhappy about it. “No, I haven’t.”

“Do you want to? With...with me?” 

“Are you going to wear those sweats?” Derek asks, fighting a smile. 

Stiles huffs, looks down at his House Slytherin sleep pants and crosses his arms. “Maybe I will.” 

Derek shrugs, “Should have told me, I would have brought my Hufflepuff ones.” 

Things get easier after that. 

“So, why the transfer?” Stiles asks, reaching for another eggroll. He’s brought Derek to the hole-in-the-wall chinese place he loves, only to find out it’s Derek’s favorite too, and that the other man picks up take-out from here almost every Wednesday after his shift at the library. The library! Stiles had needed a whole minute for his brain to reboot after the image of Derek in glasses and a sweater vest. 

“It was just easier. It’s just me and my mom and sisters and I’m still a couple hours away here, but this way if something happens I’m close enough to be able to be there if they need me.” 

Derek had apparently moved all the way to New York for his first semester of college and while he’d loved the campus and his classes, he did not like having to get on a plane to get home with any speed. 

“I totally get that. I mean, I’ve only got my dad, and I don’t know if I could move so far away that it’d take hours or days to get back.” 

Derek just nods. “You know, that sounds like the cheesy set-up plot to some movie. Me with just my mom, you with just your dad.”

“Ha! It totally does...as long as we don’t end up as brothers.” Stiles says, almost carefully, but Derek just snorts. 

“Definitely not.”  

After dinner, they walk nearly pressed together against the cold all the way back to the dorm room. Conversation flows and ebbs as they both work on various school things until Stiles’s eyes are grainy and declares they’ve earned a movie before bed. He hasn’t heard from Scott at all so he’s assuming all systems are go on that end and that Derek should just plan to stay the night. 

The man in question steps out of the bathroom, dark framed glasses have replaced his contacts and a well worn white t-shirt hangs above soft looking superman sleep pants. The v-neck of the t-shirt falls just low enough to show off the beginnings of dark chest hair at the base of Derek’s throat and Stiles’s mouth goes dry.

He’s got his laptop all set up on the bed and pillows cushioning the headboard. Derek hesitates for only a moment before gingerly sitting down beside him. It’s a twin so there’s zero space between their shoulders once they get settled, and Stiles swallows, glad he turned out the overhead light in favor of his desk lamp. Maybe his blush isn’t so obvious this way. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says suddenly while the opening music swells out of the speakers. 

Stiles frowns, turning to look at his face. “For what?”

Derek shrugs one shoulder, making it slide against Stiles’s less bulky one. “I know I can come off as kind of gruff when I first meet people. I don’t mean anything by it...I guess it just takes me longer than normal to get comfortable.” 

“Dude,” Stiles shakes his head. “No worries. We’re good.” 

Derek meets his gaze, movie colors flashing over his face. “Yeah?” 

“Definitely.” 

Derek turns back to the screen, but can’t seem to sit still. Finally, he draws in a breath and asks, “Do you think Salazar is going to be ok? I mean, like Boyd’s not just going to kill him off, right?”

Stiles is stunned into silence for about three seconds before he can formulate an answer. This is the first time Derek’s brought up the one thing they’ve had in common all along. “Nah, he’s not going to kill him. I mean I’ve had DM’s do that. Kill off characters just for shits and giggles, but Boyd seems more the type to let the chips fall where they may. Besides,” he nudges Derek’s arm, “I’m sure Daken will figure out what’s wrong with him and then kill whoever did it.”

Derek ducks his chin. “I’d say you’re right about that.”

Is that red creeping up Derek’s ears? 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes. “He was jealous!” 

Derek looks up, eyes wide. 

“In the market with the witchy woo woman. He wasn’t mad because Salazar didn’t listen to him about her being bad news, he was jealous because she was trying to get all up on that, or acting like she was, anyway.”

“And I suddenly have no idea why,” Derek mutters, ears going redder still. “Did you really just figure that out?”

Stiles grins, heart pounding. “Daken’s got a crush,” he sing-songs and Derek shoves at him, smile wide enough his bunny teeth are poking out. 

“Maybe he does,” Derek says, settling back against the pillows while Stiles laughs. “Is he the only one?” He tacks on quickly, eyes back on Stiles’s face. 

Stiles presses his shoulder a little closer, letting Derek’s heat soak into him. “Definitely not.”

 

*

 

_ “Salazar?” A voice breaks through the murky water it feels like his head is submerged in. “Can you hear me buddy?”  _

_ The room is hazy when he finally manages to blink open his eyes. A dark mop of hair and scraggly beard slowly come into focus. Stitches is leaning over him, toothy grin in place.  _

_ “Man, you really gave us a scare.” The dwarf reaches out to help Salazar sit up, stuffing pillows behind his back before handing him a cup of water. “I thought Daken was going to tear the inn down.”  _

_ At the barbarian’s name, Salazar jerks his head up from his cup. “Is he ok? Where-” _

_ “He’s fine,” Stitches placates. “He’s downstairs with the others talking with the sheriff.” _

_ “What did she hit me with?” Salazar asks, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and then fighting the dizziness the sudden movement causes.  _

_ “Those crystals she sold you? She spelled them to drain your energy, make it harder for you to fight off the creeping spell she placed.” Stitches takes the cup away from Salazar, hands him a plate with bread and cheese. “Eat. You need to recover your strength.”  _

_ Even as the first bite passes his lips, Salazar can feel vitality start returning to his body. The food settles warm in his belly as Stitches tells him what they’ve discovered so far. No one knows the Julia that he and Daken had seen in the market. For that matter, no one other than Salazar and Daken had even been able to see her. Except the man in the black hood, who was downstairs being interrogated as they spoke.   _

_ After a few minutes of persuading, Salazar convinces Stitches to help him navigate the stairs. He doesn’t want to be left out of the proceedings, not when his feet are back under him.  _

_ Night has fallen, beaten back to odd shadows by the hearth’s flickering firelight. The room is warm, scent of meat sizzling and the quiet murmurs of dinner partners filling the air. He sees Daken first, broad shoulders tense, face entirely focused as he towers over a man seated in front of him. _

_ Their group, along with the sheriff, have formed a loose half circle around the current recipient of Daken’s glare. His face is boyish, handsome, but not known to the wizard. As he and Stitches approach, Salazar can hear the captive’s words.  _

_ “I didn’t know she was going to hurt the wizard! I swear! I was just supposed to get the crystals.” _

_ “And what of the beast?” Sheriff Parrish asks and the boy pales.  _

_ “S-he conjured it from shadows,” he whispers, wide eyes darting around the room. “It guards her prize.”  _

_ “What prize?” Salazar asks before anyone else speaks up and everyone turns, surprised at his arrival.  _

_ “You should be resting!” Daken chastises even as he moves to help deposit the wizard on a nearby bench.  _

_ Salazar catches his fussing hands, forces those green eyes to meet his. “I’m fine. A little weak, perhaps, but in no danger.”  _

_ The warm glow from the hearth softens the hard edges of the barbarian’s face and he squeezes the hand still holding his before turning back to the captive. “Tell him,” he nods towards Salazar, “what you just told us.” _

_ The man takes in a slow breath, his eyes glancing to the side where Salazar realizes Malia is sitting, hands in her lap. “A week ago, I found red crystal in the mine.”  _

_ Salazar feels his eyes widen, hears the gasp leave his own mouth before he can stifle it. “But...all the red crystal was lost, torn from the earth by the gods. It’s the only crystal with true power of its own, lying dormant, just waiting for someone with magical skill to tap into it. It’s said the gods were jealous of the power it gave to mortal men.”  _

_ The man nods. “Yes, but I speak the truth. I found a piece, big as my palm, and I...I took it. I thought to sell it. To gain enough coin for us to sail across the sea.” His eyes flick to Malia again and Salazar understands.  _

_ “What is your name?” The wizard asks.  _

_ “Theo, my lord.” _

_ “What did you do with the crystal, Theo?” _

_ “I had planned to travel to the City on the Hill. Sell it in the market there, but I was stopped on the road barely past our borders by the witch.” Theo licks his lips, eyes ceaselessly flicking from shadow to shadow. “She said I need not traverse such great distance to sell the crystal. That she would gladly buy it from me, for more gold than I’d seen in my life. Like a fool, I listened.” He looks down now, shame coloring his features. “The moment she had the crystal in her hand, I could see the change in her. Like a dark curtain parting, she had come to me hooded and cloaked, but as soon as the stone touched her skin she threw them off. She was beautiful. And terrifying. She said I would dig all of the red crystal out of the mine for her. That’s when she conjured the beast and warded the mine.” _

_ Salazar startles. “There’s more? More red crystal in the mine?”  _

_ Theo nods. _

_ “Why did you not just leave? Or go to the sheriff?” Salazar asks.  _

_ Theo’s eyes once again dart to Malia, specifically to the hands folded in her lap. Slowly, Malia raises one arm and rolls the sleeve back from her slender wrist revealing a white bandage.  _

_ Stitches moves to her, gently taking her arm in hand. “May I?” At her nod, the dwarf carefully unwraps the strips of cloth, leaving naked a black mark on her otherwise unblemished skin. Stitches meets Salazar’s eyes. “Do you have anymore green crystal?”  _

_ Salazar shakes his head before looking to Theo. “Is there green crystal in the mine?”  _

_ “Yes, plenty. Will that heal her?” Theo leans forward, eager.  _

_ “The spell is the called ‘the creeping,’ it is the same as the witch used on me. And yes, with a green crystal we could heal her. How long has it been since the mark was set?” _

_ “Three days.” It’s Maila who answers him. “She said as long as Theo does as she asks, it will go no further.” _

_ Salazar nods, piecing together his thoughts. He suddenly looks up, intent on Theo’s face. “How are you able to get in the mine?”  _

_ The man lifts a hand and Daken moves so quickly, gripping Theo’s wrist, that Salazar jolts to his feet. “Daken!”  _

_ The barbarian ignores him, gaze intent on Theo. “What are you reaching for?”  _

_ “A-a token. She gave me a token. It lets me walk through her wards.” _

_ “What of the beast?” Salazar asks.  _

_ “She set the crystal into a medallion she wears around her neck. She whispers to it. Holds it as gently as a lover. I think she controls it with that.”  _

_ Daken releases Theo’s arm, letting the man dig into his pocket before bringing out a dark disc of pewter, small as a coin, a sprig of mistletoe carved into its front. He hands it to Salazar.  _

_ Salazar accepts the token, turning it over and over in his fingers before looking at the group assembled around him. “I have an idea.” _

 

*

 

“Are you crazy Stiles?!” Derek is half out of his seat, dice clutched tightly in his hand. “No way! We’re not letting you do this.” His eyes dart around the table, seeking agreement from the rest of the group, “Right? It’s too dangerous!”

Isaac shrugs, “I don’t know, man. Seems like the best plan we’re likely to come up with.”

Scott is frowning, but nods. Erica agrees, failing to stifle a giggle behind her hand and Allison looks like she sympathizes with him, but only gives an apologetic smile before nodding her agreement as well.

Huffing, Derek turns back and Stiles meets his gaze, trying to keep the warm glow building in his chest from stretching his mouth into a dopey grin. “Derek, trust me.” 

 

*

_ The moon is a sliver in the sky and has not yet reached its zenith, leaving the world below blanketed in mocking folds of shadow. A dark figure moves swiftly through the wood just outside the mine, looking this way and that before crossing the empty space between.  _

_ Gripping the witch’s talisman between sweaty fingers, he takes a step forward. The wards push against him before buckling around his intrusion, sucking him into their embrace, and then pushing him through to the other side.  _

_ The darkness is heavier here in the mouth of the cave with no breeze to stir it and he takes a slow breath, tries to calm the racing of his heart. Carefully, he reaches to light a torch suspended in a sconce on the cave’s wall. Everywhere the light touches, thousands of glistening points highlight the dark stone of the walls.  _

_ Moving deeper into the mine, he can see it separates into two tunnels. He turns to the left and only makes it a few steps before a deep growl rumbles from the darkness ahead. He swallows, grip tightening on the torch and moves slowly, pressed close to rough stone. Reaching the place where he knows the entrance to the secret tunnel to be, he presses his hand against the wall, searching for the lever that will reveal its opening.  _

_ “You are clever. I’ll give you that.” Her voice is like fresh honey, dark and dripping, cloyingly sweet.  _

_ Salazar turns, lowering the hood from his head. “Thanks. I try.” He throws the torch end over end directly at the witch’s heart. She dives to the side and the torch hits the wall before clattering to the floor.  _

_ “You fool!” The witch hisses, reaching into her cloak and pulling free a large silver medallion in whose center rests the only piece of red crystal that Salazar has ever seen.  _

_ Salazar is scrambling now, looking for the lever that will open the secret tunnel, and reveal the red crystal to him. “I thought you just said I was clever?” He snarks over his shoulder and that deep rumbling growl morphs into a howl of rage. The wizard gives up his search for the lever, reaching quickly into the folds of his robe. Extracting a purple crystal from its pocket, he throws it directly at the charging shadow, aiming right for it’s flaming red eyes. The crystal shatters, shards shooting out before turning in, weaving methodically to cage the beast in the glowing web of the spell locked within them.   _

_ Chanting her next spell, the witch advances on Salazar. An arrow cuts through the darkness, embedding itself deep into the flesh of her thigh. She screams and staggers, back landing hard against the far side of the tunnel. Gritting her teeth, the witch grips her medallion and shadows along the wall begin to move and twist gathering into three pools black as ink. Salazar watches in horror as shapes begin to rise out of them, glowing eyes darting and fangs snapping before they’ve even fully formed. They look like wolves, only distorted, with longer limbs and rugged hairless gray skin. _

_ Another arrow finds its mark in the side of one of the creatures, and Salazar reaches for his dagger just as the second shadow wolf pounces. The heavy head of Daken’s warhammer cuts the air slamming into the pouncing wolf’s side, knocking it back into shadow. Eomer and Eowyn rush forward to join the fight. Each of them has a pendant of purple crystal hanging from a leather thong around their necks. Salazar took the witch’s talisman and replicated the magic in it, storing it in the the bits of purple crystal, and allowing the cavalry to pass through the wards.   _

_ “Find the lever!” Eowyn shouts, already engaging one of the shadow wolves.  _

_ “Did you get the green crystal to Stitches?” Salazar asks, hands searching again. Daken nods and stands with him, nearly back to back as Eomer and Eowyn dance, using swords and whip and shield to hold the shadow monsters at bay. The biggest is still trapped further down the tunnel, but Salazar can see the strands of the glowing web starting to crack. It won’t hold much longer.  _

_ Merida has the witch dodging arrows, keeping her from enacting another spell, but Salazar knows that won’t last either. As long as the witch has that crystal there is no power, even between all of them, that can stop her. He searches for the lever. Theo had said it was right here. It should be right here! _

_ The witch cackles, and lifts a hand that sends a giant gust of wind screaming down the tunnel. It lifts Salazar from his feet, throwing him back towards the tunnels entrance. Eomer lands with a clatter of armor beside him, and he hears Merida grunt before thumping to ground behind them. Daken and Eowyn somehow managed to stay standing, but it seems to have been close. Eowyn has her whip lashed around one of the wrought iron sconces in the wall and Daken is leaning so far forward that when the wind dies he nearly topples over.  _

_ “Silly little wizard. Did you think I wouldn’t know the second my poor Theo had a change of heart? Your blood will paint these walls before you touch a sliver of that crystal. It is mine!” she shouts, and her wolves let out a screeching howl before charging once more.  _

_ Eowyn releases her whip, draws her sword, and spins, dropping low, taking the legs out from under the first. It screams and falls to the ground, even as more shadows are rushing to replace its lost legs. Eomer leaps back to his feet, joining the line his sister and Daken are creating between Salazar and the wolves. The witch steps back, apparently content to let her monsters fight in her stead, just as the web holding the original beast finally snaps. It rears back, huge jowls roaring, and the tunnel shakes with it’s rage.   _

_ The beast charges, leaving great furrows in the cave’s floor where its claws find purchase. Salazar knows what’s going to happen before it does, sees Daken widen his stance, shift his weight to the balls of his feet. The beast will kill him.  _

_ Salazar scrambles up, slipping on the ends of his cloak and reaching for another spelled crystal. He’s too slow. Daken swings his warhammer and the creature ducks, darting under the arc of it, jaws clamping into the flesh of Daken’s middle and throwing him like a ragdoll into the tunnel’s wall.  _

_ Salazar screams, world narrowing to the way Daken crashes against the unyielding stone and  slides down, coming to rest at it’s base in an unmoving heap. The wizard lurches forward and a large sturdy hand lands firmly on his shoulder. Stitches is there lifting his war axe and charging up to Daken’s side. His golden cleric’s armor is gleaming in the darkness of the cave, casting off it’s own light and giving the shadow beasts more pause than anything else has.  _

_ The witch sees it too. She is still clasping the crystal imbedded medallion and chanting under her breath. Merida has reached his side, firing arrow after arrow into the fray. The siblings are holding the smaller shadow wolves at bay, but they’re tiring. Looking back to Daken, he finds Stitches parrying the great beast, using axe and shield to drive it back from their fallen comrade.  _

_ Salazar runs to the barbarian, kneeling to grip the other man’s face and neck in his hands. He nearly cries with relief when he feels the pulse beneath his fingers. Tearing off his cloak, he wraps it tightly around Daken’s bleeding torso, cinching the cloth before tying it off. It’s then that he sees it, a glint catching in the light of the dwarf’s armor. A red glint. A small crack has opened only a couple feet above Daken’s unmoving frame, where the barbarian’s body had struck the wall. Without thought, Salazar sticks his fingers into the opening, it’s very small, and for once he thanks heaven for his fine bones. He wiggles, eyes going wide as the barest fingertip makes contact with the crystal.  _

_ Salazar has been a wizard all his life. He has wielded the innate power inside him, built spells to create and spells to destroy, but he has never felt anything like the pulsing radiance flowing through him. He can feel every crystal in this mine, the thin veins running over their heads to the large clumps waiting for discovery below their feet. He can feel it and he can use it all.  _

_ The witch screams, realizing what is happening even as Salazar raises his other hand, and unleashes the power pouring into him. The burst of vibrant light that shoots from his palm doesn’t just illuminate the darkness, it eradicates it. For a moment, Salazar is blind, his elf eyes overwhelmed at the power’s brilliance. It covers everything in the mine, the shadow beasts dissolve in the face of it and the witch wails, clinging to her medallion until she too crumbles into dust leaving the heavy necklace laying on the tunnel floor.  _

_ A hand grips his ankle and Salazar looks down, startled to see the way his body is glowing. Pulsing waves of red light swarm over him like an aura, wrapping him in warmth. He feels invincible.  _

_ Daken is looking up at him, green eyes piercing and he squeezes the wizard’s ankle again. “Salazar,” he says, voice gentle. “Let it go.”  _

_ He hesitates. Why shouldn’t he keep it? The grip gets tighter around his leg drawing his eyes back to the barbarians face. “Let it go.”  _

_ Salazar pulls himself away from the wall, light evaporating the instant his fingertip disconnects and he drops to his knees. Daken is already reaching for him, pulling the elf half on top of himself and pressing their lips together. Salazar whimpers, pressing into the kiss, then pulling back hands flitting over the barbarians torso.  _

_ “You’re still hurt,” Salazar sits back on his heels trying to get a look at the wounds.  _

_ Daken catches his hands. “No, I’m healed. When you used the crystal, the light healed me.”  _

_ The elf is quaking with relief, smile pulled wide on his face. He leans back in, kissing Daken again.  _

_ “Oh gods, is this really what we’re going to have to live with now?” Eomer groans, sheathing his sword.  _

_ “I don’t know, I think it’s kinda sweet,” Merida says.  _

_ “Sweet? I think you mean hot.” Eowyn’s salacious tone cuts through Salazar’s kiss stupid brain and he pulls back laughing.  _

_ Daken smiles up at him, face soft and Salazar wants nothing more than to dive right back in.  _

_ “Come on, all of you,” Stitches says, ever the voice of reason. “Let’s go let the town know their mine is safe again.” _

 

_ * _

 

“So, I think I’m totally going to play a barbarian next game.” Stiles says, walking backwards, a step ahead of Derek. They decided that a successful campaign deserved curly fries and were making their way to one of the all night diners on campus. The others had gracefully bowed out of the invitation and Stiles was secretly pleased.  

“Oh yeah?” the man asks, smiling. 

“Yeah. A big one! Maybe a half-orc...or oh! Do you think Boyd would let me play a minotaur?” 

“Minotaurs are evil, Stiles.” 

Stiles stops, frowning. “Nooooo...but there’s got to be a good one somewhere, right? Lone minotaur out seeking his redemption! Now that would be awesome!”

“Well, Boyd did say he was thinking of letting Erica play a unicorn, so I’m guessing anything is possible.” Derek keeps walking making Stiles jog to catch up with him. 

“Yeah, but she’s sleeping with the DM,” Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. “It has special privileges, you know.”

Derek stops suddenly, ears turning a deep pink. “Um...you know,” he looks down and then back up into Stiles’s waiting face. “Boyd asked me if I’d like to run a game sometime.” 

Stiles’s mouth falls open. “Y-you’re gonna DM a game?”

Derek shrugs a shoulder. “I’m thinking about it.” 

“Oh really,” Stiles’s mouth curves up into a smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He steps forward into Derek’s space, leaving only a breath of air between their bodies. “And uh, who is going to get the sleeping with the DM privileges then?” 

“Isa-” Derek starts to say, but he’s cut off when insistent lips close over his. It’s their first actual kiss and Stiles groans because the real thing is so much better than just talking about it. 

Laughter rumbles up from Derek’s chest and Stiles pulls back. “You better have been joking.”

“Come here,” Derek says and threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Stiles’s head, pulling him back in.

 

*

 

**_Later…_ **

 

_ Daken is sitting with his back against a tree trunk across the clearing from the commotion at the mine. It’s darker here beneath the tree branches where the shafts of torchlight can’t reach. He can see the sheriff talking to Stitches and Merida, no doubt getting a description of everything that happened within. Theo and Malia are standing, the girl completely healed, off to the side with the mayor and some of the other mine workers. He sees it all as if through a fog. The power that Salazar channeled left him completely healed, but he still feels weak as a babe.  _

_ Apparently healing, even magical healing, is taxing on the body. His eyes wander to his elf, and Salazar turns to him from where he’s placing the witches medallion in a lock box, as if he could feel the barbarians gaze on him even from such a distance.  _

_ Salazar leaves the circle of light and joins him there in the cool air under the tree. The elf sits, legs folded beneath him so that his shoulder leans against the trunk and Daken can see his face. A gentle hand comes to rest on his leg, thumb rubbing back and forth. They sit quietly for several minutes, simply enjoying the company of the other. Enjoying the fact that they all made it out of the mine whole.  _

_ “What are you thinking about?” Salazar finally says in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper. Daken understands. He doesn’t want to shatter this peaceful bubble they’ve found for themselves either.  _

_ “Just glad everyone’s ok.” He turns and presses his lips against Salazar’s. “Glad you’re ok.”  _

_ The elf smiles at him and with twinkling eyes lifts his hand from Daken’s thigh. Red sparks drift up from his palm, forming little softly glowing starbursts that hang lazily in the air, drifting around and illuminating the tree’s shadow.  _

_ “Wha-” Daken starts. _

_ “I think a little bit of it stayed with me,” Salazar admits. “Or it just hasn’t completely worn off yet.” At Daken’s worried eyes, he continues. “I don’t think it’s bad. It doesn’t feel bad. Almost like...a gift for keeping it out of that witches hands. It doesn’t feel foreign like it did in the mine...it just feels like me.”  _

_ Daken swallows, looks up to the floating lights. “They’re beautiful.” He turns his eyes back to Salazar’s upturned face. “Like you.” _

_ Dark eyes turn to meet his and a slow smile pulls at the elf’s lips. “Yeah?”  _

_ The barbarian only nods and pulls his wizard back down into another kiss.     _

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr.](http://fearfrost1211.tumblr.com/) Stop by and say Hi!


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